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#the obvious answer is that it is because he cares about humans but why??
silvermarley · 2 days
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i know its a tad weird, but... do you think muzan would be ok with period sex? its technically free blood... and reader wont have cramps during it
You’re all good! I mean demon + free blood?? Sorry it’s super late 🙏🏻
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Period Sex
Muzan x Reader
Warnings: blood obv, a bit rough?, cunnilingus, fem! body parts, minor degradation, established relationship, unprotected sex
WC: 2.1k
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Demons have an unquenchable thirst for blood. They typically don’t care about their human victims, as they’re only a mere blood bank to them. The same is said about the infamous and overwhelmingly powerful king of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji.
But, he has a unique situation that has taken hold of him for the past few days. You see, he’s not ignorant of the human body, but there’s something he didn’t know about. Mortal women bleed once a month, as their bodies ready themselves for eventual pregnancy.
Muzan’s situation is unique because of his lover. A human woman, one which he couldn’t kill. One that he found himself seeking out, and the person who makes his cold heart(s) beat. It was obvious that since he was a demon, he would seek out any blood he can get. You knew that. So when it was your time of the month, you would make up some excuse to be left alone for the duration of your period. That was your plan every month.
Eventually, the demon king saw the pattern in the times you would ask to be alone. It made his teeth clench just thinking about why that would be. You were a loyal partner, of course, but that fact didn’t come up in his mind when it would start to go over reasons as to why he had to go days, if not a week without you. Who would dare to impose on my relationship, he thought. You were his. He has the right to be with you everyday, so why? Why must you insist on taking.. vacations, as he called it, so often?
For the time away, you would suffer through your period. The cramps, bleeding, and aches.. all of it. Not only were you unsure of what Muzan would do if he knew about this, but you also didn’t want to bother him with your vulnerable and emotional side. In the end, he’s a man-eating demon. It had been long enough for you to understand that he wouldn’t dream of killing you, no matter how angry he felt. But just the thought of him knowing about your period was quite frightening.
Muzan isn’t a very patient man, unfortunately. He wanted to know why you kept leaving and distancing every time. Why you were keeping something from him.
You had your own room, and you didn’t really use it until the time came. You much preferred to spend your nights with him. But in this case, it wasn’t possible.
He knew where you went monthly, considering nothing in the infinity castle gets past him. And now, he was heading there in search for answers. As he got closer to the room, he caught the scent of blood. Your blood?
In a matter of seconds after his keen sense of smell caught that scent, he was sliding open the door to your room. You jumped upon seeing him, not know what to do now that he was here.
“Are you injured?” He asked after a pause. His eyes glowed at the smell, even in the dimly lit space.
His eyes scanned over your form, covered in a blanket and your face, showing many emotions. Confusion, fear, and above all pain. Not pain from any injury, like he was thinking. At your silence, he was about to seethe in anger at who would be brainless enough to lay a hand on you. Until you spoke up.
“No..” your voice was slightly shaky. You had no idea how he would react if you told him about your dilemma.
Heavy footsteps are heard as he walks over to you. “Then?” His arms cross skeptically. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?” Muzan’s voice was firm, yet you could tell this was his way of checking on you.
You sigh. This was inevitable. You couldn’t hide this for all eternity, anyways. “I’m not hurt.. I’m on my period.”
His eyebrows furrow curiously. Right.. he likely didn’t know that about you.
“Every month, I..” you calm yourself, only stopping your words to whince at the pain in your stomach. “..bleed. It’s something women go through.”
“Every month..? How come I smell your blood, but i have yet to see it?” He kneels by you to inspect your body. Most of which was still covered.
He wasn’t reacting badly so far, which came as a surprise. Turns out his restraint is much better than you thought. Now, it was just embarrassing to explain it.
“Because I bleed from down there..” you began to mumble, face heating up slightly at how you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual thing you’re referring to.
His ruby colored eyes glowed once more, this time for a different reason. Before you could protest, he lifted the blanket from your body to see your bloodied lower region. He couldn’t stop the groan leaving his chest as the scent got more prominent. You noticed his grip on the blanket tightened.
“And you thought to hide this from me?” His gaze then returns to your face.
You nod hesitantly. “It’s just.. I didn’t know how you would react. And I didn’t want you to deal with it..”
“Deal with the blood?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you know who I am? What I am?” You felt a cold finger trail from your jaw to your collarbone.
“I-I know.. but the blood isn’t all of it. It also causes stomach cramps and mood swings.” You stutter, yet you felt little to no fear right now due to the look in his eyes. It wasn’t of murderous intent.
His hand trails down further to your stomach and he rests it there. “..Is it hurting now?” He questions, and when you nod again, he inquires more about it. He inhales. “It’s hard to resist the scent of your blood. Especially after hearing where it’s coming from..”
Warmth spread across your cheeks at the comment. You didn’t know where he was going with this.
“I think I know how to assist you with the pain.” This would be a sweet thing to hear, if it weren’t for the sinister smirk on his face.
He begins pushing the blanket completely off your body. After it was successfully moved to the side, he took in the view. He was getting hungrier by the minute. Drool fell from his lips a little at the sight. He needed to taste it. And he wasn’t one to play with his meals.
Muzan pulls down your shorts, tossing it aside to see the mess that is your panties. He groaned again, unable to stop himself from licking a stripe on your clothed core, tasting your sweet blood through the fabric. You gasped, feeling much more sensitive than normal, but also hot due to his boldness.
He rips your sad excuse for underwear and dove right into what he’s been craving ever since he smelled your sweet blood. He’s no stranger to pleasuring you with only his tongue. But god, this felt so good. So different. Like he was trying to devour you whole. Like he’s parched and the only thing that can quench it is the mess between your thighs.
The demon’s tongue moved languidly at first, to savor the taste of both your arousal and the tempting red liquid. But the muscle moved quicker with time, desperately needing to taste all of you. You writhed and grabbed onto the only thing keeping your mind in reality, his wild and now unkempt black locks.
Your needy tugs to his hair only made his movements more determined. The heat in your lower stomach was rising at a rapid pace not even you could keep up with. The area that was previously aching with pain was now flooding with pleasure. Muzan’s nails dug into your upper thighs as he feasted on everything you were giving him. The pain shouldn’t have felt so good, but with the drag of his demonic tongue, god it did.
Your orgasm hit you like a flash, as your arched into his head and stuttered his name loudly. The growl he let out was low and heavy. He licked up your mixed juices while you twitched and shook.
He then lifted himself from you. His pupils were blown wide and his lower face was messy. “Divine, just as I thought.” He murmurs, “Your essence is sweet, and mixed with your blood..” he takes in a breath, and trails off.
You caught your breath, which was knocked out of you for a moment. Before you had time to respond, he’s making his next move. You glanced down as he sat up, noticing his prominent erection in his dress pants. It made you wonder how it would feel inside you now that you were on your cycle. You were sensitive already, but this time it was enhanced surely.
His sharp teeth nearly shined as he grinned darkly at you. “Your blood is irresistible.. and I can’t wait to see such delectable essence on my cock.”
His grin widens a bit more at seeing the you bite your lip with replenished need. You two have been intimate many times before, but this felt like so much more. With this, he could have claim every part of you, in your weakest state. In your most vulnerable time. And that thought alone has been driving him wild since he tasted you.
You barely even noticed when he took off his pants and vest, leaving his formal shirt slightly unbuttoned as he was too desperate to be inside you. Having said that, you also failed to notice when he was now hovering over you and positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he carefully plunged in. There was a mutual groan shared as he pushes in, inch by inch.
The mix of slick and blood made it easier to stuff you full of his cock. When he bottomed out, he couldn’t resist biting your shoulder. You whined from both pain and pleasure, as he laps up more of your sweetness. The taste of it on his tongue caused him to begin thrusting. “Always such a good little human, hm?” He rasps.
You let out a strangled moan at the sheer power of his thrusts in an attempt at a response. Your mind couldn’t even think about the pain in your abdomen with how good he was making you feel. His head pulls back to watch your lewd expressions. It was always his favorite. Just seeing how much of a mess he can make of you gets him going.
Even as such an individual as mighty as Muzan, he still falls into the irresistible pleasure he gets from you. The feelings he once was unfamiliar with, came easily when he met you.
His nails dig into your hips this time as with each thrust he pulls you to him, only increasing how deep he hit. Your whines echoed off the walls of your room, mixing with the slaps of skin. A faint but audible set of groans and grunts can also be heard from the man above you. Only you could drag these uncontrollable noises from the king himself.
The demon threw his head back, gripping under your thighs to bring them to your chest. That served to make him go even deeper than you thought possible. Your body was trembling under him, and the feeling of getting close came creeping up on you. The tightening of your pussy made his noises turn into something more animalistic. “Make a beautiful mess on my cock. I know you want to.” He coos breathily, his alluring eyes staring at your face.
And you were more than happy to follow as he said. Body twitching and ecstasy taking over, you came hard. Your mind was effectively taken over by the intensity of it all. A deep growl came out of his mouth as you convulsed and nearly milked him for all he’s worth. He felt close, and quicker than normal. The circumstances played a big part in speeding up his gratification in indulging in you.
You could barely keep your eyes open as he relentlessly thrusted, overstimulation making you shake pathetically. He reveled in your form and the sensation. After a few more harsh thrusts, he gives a final one that fills you with his cum. “That’s it,” he moans huskily, “Take it all..”
When he spilled all he could into you, he pulled out and let his dick lay on your stomach. He looked down at the fluids connecting it to your messy cunt. A sight he could get used to.
Though, he’s no weak man by any means. It wasn’t long before his stamina allowed him to become hard again. A desire-filled smirk was plastered on his face. “You should know that I am far from done.”
As his lover, you definitely knew that. But as a human, you weren’t sure how far he would take it this time. The king wasn’t going to give you time to think about that, however.
——
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paimonial-rage · 4 months
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Ask meme - 6 and 9 for the dragon men (zhongli and neuvillette) please!
This took so long I am so sorry, but here we go!
[Character Analysis Ask Meme]
What is Neuvillette's biggest insecurity?
Neuvillette’s biggest insecurity is not something he's ever tried to hide. Anyone that has spent enough time with the Iudex has probably heard him mention it before. Simply put, Neuvillette doesn't understand the emotions of humans very well. He never has and sometimes he doubts if he ever will? How many times has this flaw of his costed him dearly in the past? How many mistakes has he made? And how many are there yet to come? How he dreads the thought.
What can’t you trust [Neuvillette] with?
To chase after you - Iudex Neuvillette is many things—polite, kind, intelligent—but he is not a man without faults. Only a few know him well enough to realize he holds many regrets upon his shoulders, majority that were never his burden alone to bear. Should you ever become the source of one of these regrets, you can surely expect to know. With somber eyes and a weight upon his shoulders, he will apologize to you. But don’t expect anymore than that. Not understanding human emotions is not only his weakness, but a prison. He will not attempt to make things up to you nor will he try to make things how they used to be. You’re best off where he can hurt you no more, even if that means he will be left alone to the rain.
What is Zhongli's biggest insecurity?
Who knows lol.
What can’t you trust Zhongli with?
With mora - As knowledgeable and talented Zhongli is with many things, it is a surprise to many to hear that businessmen don’t exactly enjoy making deals with him. How can they when contract discussions always leave them with the [shorter end of the stick]? How many [unforeseen business expenses] do they end up incurring in such a short amount of time? In the end, they always lose more than they gained. What they don’t know is this unfortunate occurrence happens with any Mora dealings with the man. But what can you expect for someone that, by contract, has the Traveler liable for all expenses during his outings with them? It's simply best to leave all matters of mora out of any relationships with him.
With your heart - If there's one thing true about Zhongli, it's that, while he may withhold the truth, he does not lie. So when he speaks of a person warmly, they can very well believe his words to be true. That being said, it is important that one does not mistaken his warmth with depth. One cannot simply entrust their heart to him and expect his in return. How could anyone hope to understand the weight of many a millennia, after all? So while the desire may be cute, it'll never be something he would even consider to reciprocate.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#zhongli#neuvilllette#zhongli x reader#neuvillette x reader#character analysis ask meme#my writing#i am so sorry this took so long anon i have no excuses#not the happiest with these set of responses either#neuvillette’s insecurity answer is severely lacking#it’s so obvious that it feels too easy but like#the reason why i feel that way is because the answer doesn’t answer WHY tha5 is his biggest insecurity. WHY does it matter to him so much?#the obvious answer is that it is because he cares about humans but why??#the answer i came to is that deep down he wants to be accepted by humans which is why he seeks to understand them but i am not sure#granted that’s just my gut answer. i need to do way more research but i already left you waiting too long#as for zhongli like….. ugh#my first answer for what you can trust him with was a cop out but like!!!#that’s because my second answer is like something i talk about alllll the time when i talk about zhongli OTL#i have a whole series surrounding it orz#i didn’t think anyone would want me to talk about it again so i came up with the cop out answer#but the cop out answer was such a cop out i ended up typing my original idea haha#so you get two answers that are kind of mediocre. i’m sorry. ;v;#all of my other answers for him would be more humorous#you can’t trust him with: common sense… bringing appropriate party cups… arriving to events on time#tho there’s no proof for it you gotta admit that he gives off the vibes of someone tha5 is chronically late to everything#and as for his insecurity like… typically old and ‘spiritually actualized’ people are of the hardest to analyze in terms of insecurities#he has no chinks in his armor#i will be working on your next ask though! hopefully it takes less time ;v;
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makoodles · 10 months
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ミ the mightiest
part one | part two
🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader
🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
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It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…
Okay, so you can’t really explain it.
You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.
Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?
Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.
It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.
The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.
Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.
“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.
Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.
“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”
“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.
Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”
You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.
“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.
Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.
“So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”
You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”
Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”
That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.
There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.
“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.
You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”
“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”
“He’s nosey.” You correct.
Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”
It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.
“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”
There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”
That is not Lo’ak’s voice.
For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.
But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.
“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.
Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.
“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”
Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.
“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.
“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.
You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.
You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.
“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.
Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.
“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.
And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.
But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.
Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.
“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”
Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.
You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.
And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.
As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.
You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.
“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.
“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"
You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“
Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.
“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.
“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”
You gape at him, stunned.
“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?
“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“
Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.
He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.
“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.
You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”
He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.
“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”
Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”
Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.
“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”
Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.
“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”
You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.
“What?” You croak, blinking.
And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.
“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.
“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”
You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”
“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.
You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.
“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”
You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.
“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”
You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.
Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.
Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.
It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.
Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.
At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.
“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.
Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.
You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.
There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.
Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.
God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?
You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.
“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.
You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.
Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.
The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.
“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”
Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.
Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.
You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.
The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.
Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.
And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.
You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.
Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.
But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.
“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.
“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.
Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.
“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.
Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.
“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.
When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.
When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.
“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”
Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”
“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”
But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.
“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.
And damn, you can’t turn him down.
“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.
He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.
But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.
You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.
Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.
It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.
“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.
You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.
“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”
Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.
Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.
Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.
Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.
He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.
Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.
You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.
You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”
Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.
You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.
You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.
Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.
“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.
Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.
His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.
“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.
He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.
You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.
“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.
Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”
And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.
“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.
And luckily he does, his smile only growing.
“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.
He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.
“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”
You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.
And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.
He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.
Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.
“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”
You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.
“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”
“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”
You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.
“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”
He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”
You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.
The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.
“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.
You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.
It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.
You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.
"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.
Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.
Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.
You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.
“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”
The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.
“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.
He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.
He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.
Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.
He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.
You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.
“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.
“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”
You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.
“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”
Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”
“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"
“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”
And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.
It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.
It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.
Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.
You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.
You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.
The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.
You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.
The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.
“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”
You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.
"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.
You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.
You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.
He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.
"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”
"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”
No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.
When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.
"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.
You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”
Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.
“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”
Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.
It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands
Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?
You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.
“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”
That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.
You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.
“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.
Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.
“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”
You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.
“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”
"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.
Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.
That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.
Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”
“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”
“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”
He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.
“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”
“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”
“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”
“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”
“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”
It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?
You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?
You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.
“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”
“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.
Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.
Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.
Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.
“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.
“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”
Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.
“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.
You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.
“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.
Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.
“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.
“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.
Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.
He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”
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k4vehrtz · 4 months
Text
NYMPHOLOGY. satoru gojo / sub! m. reader
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synopsis. satoru will miss ‘that person’ forever.
word count. 1k . ✦ . warnings. prince! gojo / nymph! reader / discussions of grief / unprotected sex as a means of trade sort of
notes. inspired by that one artwork “he ate my heart” — sorry for starving you guys :(
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SUGURU WOULD’VE BEEN the first to admit that they were lost. at least, that’s what satoru thinks, anyway. it’s been four years — his memories of what he now considered a lighter time in his life felt more distant than anything else.
his companion was, beyond a reasonable doubt, ‘gone’. this was the reality of his circumstances. a reality he couldn’t bring himself to accept; a reality where half of his heart had become another name on the list of people who’d disappeared without a trace.
“why have you come here?”
he’d wondered the same thing — what did he intend to achieve by doing this?
“…for answers?” it’s the most obvious response but he doesn’t care. he’s gradually become this; found himself caring less and less. ‘there’s not much left to lose when you’ve already lost it all,’ he thinks.
and you’re no stranger to this plague of human emotion. it came to be a familiar display after ‘that place’ resumed activity.
“that…” you pause, pressing your lips together, “i acknowledge your status as the heir to the human throne but my answer remains the same — i don’t know,” before crossing your hands in front of your chest.
he’d expected this much; you’re not exactly known for being lenient. but it was worth a shot.
“that person,” satoru couldn’t bring himself to say his name, “studied your kind in his free time,” especially not within this context.
it’s not necessarily a surprise to you either. of course, you’re not acquainted with ‘that person’ but human beings are inherently curious. curious about ‘that place’ and the ‘people’ that live there.
“your point being?” you counter, nose crinkling.
satoru swallows thickly. ‘be careful,’ suguru had warned as their knees knocked together, child–like fingers curling in the dirt, ‘nymphs are alluring but they’re dangerous’. and for a moment, he’d wished he had listened.
there’s no turning back now though. you’re standing in front of him, the sun’s rays reflecting on your skin and the wind carrying the scent of flowers as you await an answer.
“i want to be surrounded by what he enjoyed most — ‘this place’ was his all–consuming love.”
the colour drains from your face in an instant. you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. ‘this place’ and ‘all–consuming love’ used in the same sentence is…well, it shouldn’t be paired.
“you got lost on purpose?” it’s more of a statement than a question but satoru responds anyway: “i want to be ‘consumed’ too.”
‘this place’ had ‘consumed’ his companion four years ago. and maybe, if that person could see him now, he’d be disappointed. but he wouldn’t have been surprised. this was the type of person satoru was, is, and will continue to be.
a man with half a heart because he’d given the other half to suguru. and for a moment, he’d wished he hadn’t. yet another thing he’d found himself doing more and more — wishing.
“you’re…not like the others,” you murmur and he smiles knowingly.
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THE POMEGRANATE was a sacred symbol of life itself.
“there are other —” he moves his thumb over your lower lip, as tears blur your vision “— ways.”
or, rather, the ‘sequence’ of life. one’s fertility and the pause in fertility; one’s mortality, and inevitably the fruit of the dead.
“you’re right,” he agrees easily and you let out a breathy laugh, “but this is the most enjoyable, is it not?”
you don’t deny it, and a corner of his mouth lifts.
and his lips are warm against yours. it’s strange at first, the residual warmth it leaves in your body in its wake. a warmth that promotes blood flow in the direction of your cock. you’re hard, pre–cum leaking from the slit atop your pulsating cockhead.
satoru continues to kiss you though. he sinks his teeth into the fat of your lower lip, prompting them to part, an open–mouthed whimper bouncing off the inner walls of your cheeks instantaneously. and your brows ratchet up, a crease forming between them, as you lower your gaze to satoru whose tongue slithers into your mouth.
‘you taste like pomegranate,’ he thinks to himself as he pokes at your tear–stained cheek, ‘definitely pomegranate’.
when he breaks the kiss, you’re breathless, your chest rising and falling in sync with your shoulders. but he wastes not a moment — understanding better than anyone else the unpredictability of the flow of time.
his hands pressed into your sides, holding you in place, and only letting go momentarily to free his cock from its constraints. he’s hard too, you notice, standing at full mast and curving inwards slightly.
“please,” your voice is no more than a quiet plea that a gentle breeze carries to satoru’s ear, your spine stiff and muscles tense, “be gentle.”
and his gaze softens at that, bringing a hand up to your face to caress your cheek like it’s a promise. it’s not his intention to hurt you.
but it does hurt to some degree after he aligns his cock with your entrance, pushing past that tight ring of muscle. the only difference is that he’s comforting you through the process. alternating between his forehead pressed against yours and locking his lips with yours.
key word there being ‘process’.
“i’m sorry.”
his voice mirrors your quietness, eliciting the rise of goosebumps on your skin even as you writhe beneath him whilst he bucks his hips into you. you’re not sure who the apology is directed to but you choose not to linger on it anyway.
there’s no going back now — ‘this place’ won’t allow it.
“b...by doing this — ” your voice raises in pitch, your gasps audible, “you’ve sealed your faith princeling.” and satoru hums as his movements become somewhat erratic. “you’re only,” his hips stutter mid–sentence, “doing what i asked of you,” and he lowers his lips to your ear, “you’ll both forgive me,” before his cock spurts ropes of cum into you in sync with your orgasm.
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eideticallys · 11 months
Text
Who's Your Barber?
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request: based on this.
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”
genre: fluff
word count: 852
author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
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“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”
You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.
Cute, you thought.
“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”
“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”
A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.
You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.
“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”
Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.
“How?”
You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.
“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”
Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.
“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”
You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.
“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”
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“What, did you join a boy band?”
Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.
You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.
But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.
However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.
“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice. 
You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer
“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”
As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.
“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”
Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now. 
It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.
“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”
At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.
“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”
Spencer likes you back? 
As in more than friends? 
Non-platonic?
Spencer likes you back!
“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.
“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.” 
Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.
“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”
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shanastoryteller · 4 months
Note
Happy Holidays! ❄️❄️ more from What They Expect please! I love that AU!
continuation of 1 2 3
It’s been well over a year since she’s seen Mustang. Al’s all aflutter about it, and how puberty has her looking like something other than a twelve year old boy, but she’s really not worried. Mustang is so involved with his own shit that he doesn’t have the time to care about hers. It would be a damning quality if it wasn’t exactly what she needed from him.
She is, sort of, a little bit worried about Riza. Not worried as in she actually thinks something is going to happen, but just that if anyone out of Mustang’s little idiot brigade would figure her out, it would be her.
Maes is a distinct possibility, but also not really. The thing that saves her, always, is that no one’s really looking. She’s loud and flashy and angry and no one thinks she’s too short to be a guy because of how sensitive she is about it and no one notices she’s pretty because they’re too busy dealing with her being mad and scowling and, with these guys, she’s got an extra ace up her sleeve.
They think they already know all her secrets.
They know about human transmutation and binding her brother’s soul to a suit of armor and every questionable and terrible thing she’s done since in her pursuit to fix it.
Why the hell would she be lying about her gender? It’s not even a thought in their heads, and if it ever becomes one, they’ll dismiss it before he even has a chance to.
Eden binds her chest tight extra tight, so her chest is nearly flat, and puts on her baggy tank top and giant red coat that hides the way her hips curve and the giant stompy boots that she really does love, sets her face in a familiar scowl, and goes off to war.
If war was child’s play, that is.
“Where have you been?” Mustang demands, towering over her and nostrils flaring.
Well. Sort of towering over her. She must have had a growth spurt, because he’s really only got a couple inches on her, which is sort of hilarious. She hadn’t noticed that he was short before. “Uh, lots of places. Haven’t you been reading my reports?”
She does not laugh in his face at the way his eyebrow ticks. She spends so much time meticulously writing everything down in dedicated code in her travelogues, she really doesn’t have the energy to spare when she gets to her reports for Mustang. Besides, he doesn’t really care what she’s doing, only that it’s big and flashy enough to distract from whatever he’s doing.
Is she supposed to know that? She can’t remember. But it’s so obvious that it doesn’t feel like something that can be a secret.
Then again, the rest of the brass haven’t caught on, so.
“What were you thinking in Liore?” he snaps.
Eden blinks. “Liore? That was forever ago. Did something happen? Rose didn’t mention anything in her last letter.”
“Yes, Edward, it was forever ago, but since you declined to answer my summons to come here and explain yourself, we’re discussing it now,” he says.
God, she’d forgotten how bitchy he gets. “Okay, well that priest guy was pretty strange-“
“I don’t care about the priest!”
She stares. She had to kill the guy twice and he doesn’t care? Honestly, she thinks it’s sort of memorable.
“What were you thinking messing with that river?”
Ed tilts her head to the side. “You’re upset about the river?”
He glares. “Of course I’m upset about the river!”
She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Al’s really worried over nothing.
Mustang is never paying attention to the right things.
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bonny-kookoo · 3 months
Text
Yoongi
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Business Decisions
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He's not who people might think he is.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut
Length: 3k Words
-Masterlist
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Min Yoongi is, despite his looks and quiet nature, a very kind person. Or at least, that's what some very selected people will tell, if one was to ask them.  
His tail softly sways behind him as he keeps an eye on the main operational panel in front of him, while you watch. His cat-like ear snaps a bit irritated at something- when his eyes turn towards you, glaring. “can you.. stop staring?” He requests, and you nod, instead turning to look out the large window of the spaceship instead. You’re quiet, but not mute- having talked to him quite a bit before. Maybe you simply don’t speak much, or don’t put much value in.. smalltalk.  
That’s fine by him. He doesn’t either. 
He's found you- or rather, you found him- just hours earlier at an outpost, asking him to take you along to another location in exchange for a small amount of money. Where he went next you didn't care- you only needed a ride to get around, most likely used to this kind of life, since you'd obviously chosen him very specifically amongst all the other options at the bustling restaurant.
In hindsight, it made sense that you approached him despite his grim appearance- he was the shortest and least threatening looking species in that restaurant at the time, and was also one of the only one's there without any company at all. You're clearly smart about this whole process of finding a ride from one place to another-
otherwise, you wouldn't have lived like this for so long, having done this for years, according to you.
“There is.. Food over there. If you’re hungry.” He tells you, and you look over to spot the metal trunk in a corner, before you nod at him, not moving at all however. 
“I’m not.” You answer, though your stomach growls as if to disagree, making you clearly a bit ashamed of it, eyes widening at being betrayed by your own body like this. 
“Just eat. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to give it to you.” He mumbles to himself, resuming his task of checking the ship’s systems again while you stay seated where he’d last told you to sit. You still won’t move, and he’s unsure why not- but he’s also aware that he shouldn’t get too invested in you. You’re gonna be dropped off next stop, and that’s gonna be it- which is for the best, because getting involved with humans is never a very good idea.  
And he’s also still on a mission to get his revenge- and secure his place in the foodchain, to be no longer seen as nothing but a docile little pet. A mission that might as well kill him- and if he can avoid pulling anyone down with him, he surely will. 
When he notices your eyes blinking longer and longer, he walks to fetch a sleeping bag from one of the other metal trunk in the corner, to offer it to you. “Sleep. It’ll still be a few more hours until we’ve reached the next outpost.” He says, and you take the sleeping bag from him with a thankful nod, before you spread it out right on the floor where you sit, to crawl into it and lay down. He has a suspicion what your way of earning money had been until now, but with your behavior so obvious, it’s very clear to him now.  
It makes him upset. The fact that you’ve been driven so far just to somehow survive.  
Either way, he stays awake to both keep himself safe just incase he’s misjudged you and your intentions, and to make sure the old and very small spaceship keeps it’s course as it sometimes tends to deviate over time due to the old navigation system. And yeah, maybe he also can’t help his instincts as well- 
Unintentionally guarding you while you sleep, eyes always checking up on you any time you move in your sleep.  
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Min Yoongi was born on Zoldos- a small, cold and relatively poor planet, which had been industrialized for ages. He remembers his father making toys out of junk he found while working at the metal factory each day, turning trash into small spaceships for Yoongi to play with.  
Most of his time however was spent with his mother, and the many children she’d foster over the years of his childhood- many of them he’d see as his sisters, as all of them would be girls given up by their families, since in his culture, they’re said to just be expensive and too much work to raise. Maybe this way of growing up, helping his mother with the young kids every day while she taught him everything he needed for his future, made him into the man he is today.  
His father had always been described as ‘unusually soft’ compared to what is usually expected and seen in his kind- Xaqal people tending to be combative, easily irritated, and quick to escalate situations into physical violence to defend themselves from others. But his father was already uninterested in any of the usual past-time activities his coworkers would indulge in, like underground fighting, or gambling- rather spending his free time home with his son, foster children and partner, which was unusual in itself. Usually, partners of his kind don’t stay together after their children learn how to walk- but Yoongi remembers that even when his mother passed, his father would continue to live at the same house, to find new homes for the remaining children, before he moved away as well once Yoongi decided to leave the planet.  
Yoongi is still in contact with his father, and doesn’t believe that he should’ve been raised any different than how he was. 
But his now rather soft and kind character comes with a price to pay- with most people on other planets not taking too kindly to him and his friendly nature at first. Friendships don’t pay your bills after all, so the first lesson the young man had to learn back then, was to toughen up, and start thinking of only yourself first and foremost. Getting attached to others was a risk to take, and would most likely end in a burden one might think of unnecessary.  
Even so, Yoongi has made friends along the way. From a very, very charismatic guy named Seokjin and his mother on Cryon, or the stoic and self-admitted younger ‘Asshole’ human-Bolku hybrid going by the name of Jungkook. But other than that, he keeps himself independent- away from others.  
However, for some reason, he’s now sitting with you on a bench on the outpost while his spaceship is being refueled, having bought you some warm food to eat, despite your active arguments against that. Maybe because you’re obviously in need of protection, or because you’re not a threat whatsoever- but he feels like he should at least make sure you’ll be okay on this outpost, before he’ll leave you here.  
Deep down, he knows it’s not the question if you end up getting into a situation where you’ll be killed- but more so, when.  
“What are... your capabilities?” Yoongi asks after a moment, watching your hands as they tear apart a piece of bread to dip it into your hot soup he bought. A warm and filling meal was a good idea to him, since it’ll keep you energized for longer than just a snack or fast food.  
You look up at him, caught off guard, as you swallow down, thinking.  
“Hm..” You hum as you think. “I.. Can read maps pretty well. And I’m good at cleaning.” You say. “But I could probably learn other things pretty quickly, if needed. It depends on the job I could get.” You explain, and Yoongi nods.  
“So if you had to learn about another species’ health and how to care for it, you could learn quickly?” He asks, and you nod.  
“If.. Given enough recourses to teach myself.” You mumble, continuing to eat. He’s getting the feeling you’ve not had a filling meal in a while with how eager you are to finish all of it.  
“I will not offer you monetary compensation.” He says, and at that, you look up again. “But instead a place to sleep, regular food, and.. Basic protection.” Yoongi explains to you, and at that, you instantly nod.  
“I can do anything!” You chirp, desperate- and he carefully pushes you back down by your shoulder, calming you down again. “Really-” 
“I believe you.” He nods. “But Be aware that I am not just some traveler.” He remarks, and you nod.  
“I understand.” You say. 
“Hm. If that’s the case-” He starts, looking over to a small shop that sells different electronics. “-I’ll get the necessary equipment to finalize our agreement. Stay here- and don’t talk to anyone.” He commands, and you nod, continuing to eat while he gets up to walk into the shop. 
Many of the people inside this shop are wearing the distinctive blinking tiny tracker around their necks- either from a simple leather collar, something more sleek like a silver hoop, or even one with a chain. It’s to be expected, as most of what is sold here is equipment for ‘personnel’, as it’s called across the galaxy, after the term ‘slave’ had been outlawed and categorized as a slur.  
Yoongi can feel the eyes on him, since the tall, green-skinned lady at the counter most likely waiting just like the rest of them for another person to follow him to buy equipment for him, as it’s normal for his kind- but the second he picks out a combination of a tracker, and EID tag, and a simple, silver collar that wouldn’t stain or sit too tight around your neck, people become interested.  
“Size is a bit small for you, kitty.” The alien woman giggles, scanning the items to add the price of everything together. “You know how to set the EID up?” She says, clicking at the end of her sentences a foreign tone, similar to an insect. 
“I know how it works.” He tells her, voice stable and monotone, something he taught himself to never give away any sign of his actual emotions. Because showing them will show weakness- and Yoongi needs to keep up an appearance of indifference at all times, just so people can never quite figure him out.  
People naturally fear the unknown, down the line, no matter the species.  
“Alright. Just out of curiosity though..” She says, clicking sounding again as she narrows her dark eyes at him while he pays. “...who the hell wants to be under the command of a Xaqal?” She says, some people in the small store giggling to themselves as if a joke had been told.  
“Someone who will live a fairly comfortable life from now on.” He simply answers, payment confirmed by her system, before he takes the bag of items, and leaves- gazes following him long after he exited the store.  
He’s relieved to still find you right where he left you, no one seemingly having tried to take you away, or worse yet- so he taps your shoulder to gain your attention, nodding towards his ship in the distance. “Let’s go. I need to set up your EID after we take off.” He says, and you nod, getting up to follow him.  
“Are- are you sure I’m a good choice?” You ask, walking after him like some lost pet, eager to keep up with his rather fast pace. For a Xaqal, he’s surprisingly tall- not quite as tall as some of the other human’s you’ve met, which normally are considered a shorter species, but also not as short as some of the Xaqals you’ve seen in the past.  
“Are you trying to sway my mind?” He wonders, opening the cargo door to his spaceship, before he climbs in- noticing how you don’t follow. So he walks back, and has to swallow down a laugh- because you clearly struggle to somehow pull yourself up on the iron steps, which are too high off the ground for you to properly reach with your legs. “...well, at least you won’t take up too much space on the ship.” He mumbles to himself, before he holds onto one of the metal handles on the sides, before he pulls you up by your arm so that you can make it onto the steps, able to finally climb inside.  
He’ll adjust the steps in the future. Maybe add one. Or rather three. 
Back in the main navigation center of the ship, where your sleeping bag is still laying in front of the front windows, you sit down right there, as if you’ve accepted this spot as your place to exist.  
The ship calms after it breaks orbit, softly flying through the empty space while Yoongi sets up the EID tag for you. The electronic identification device opens a new window on his control panel as he places it on the scanner he has, asking for him to input the necessary information- and he looks over at you, where you sit, looking out the window.  
“Once I set this up, it can’t just be undone.” He tells you, and you snap your head towards him, before you nod. “Alright.” He mumbles putting in his own information and ID number as your set ‘Employer’- scanning the chip placed onto the bone of his forearm, before he waves you over. “Put your arm here.” He tells you, and you do- though nothing is scanned at all, no matter how you twist or turn your arm. Yoongi’s brows furrow. “Where’s your ID-chip?” He asks, and you perk up, before you turn around, pointing somewhat to a spot on your back.  
“My spine- it should be between my shoulders.” You say.  
“Spine?” He mumbles, unsure. The spine is not a good spot to place an ID chip, no matter how small it is- it could still dislodge and get in between important nerves or even the vertabrae, causing damage that would be potentially fatal. “Why is it there?” He asks, picking up the scanner to run it over your back- a beep signalling that the chip had been found, and sucessfully read by the device.  
“As far as I know, most humans and Yon get it there, because its harder to get out.” You explain, having turned around to curiously watch Yoongi tap away all the info into your future identification. “Because, you know, Humans and Yon are popular Personnel. People would just chop their arms off and exchange it for a prosthetic later after they'd take them and put them up for sale. So to combat that, we get the chip on the spine instead.” You say, and Yoongi cringes to himself, realizing now why he sees so many humans and Yon people with a prosthetic.  
“I’ll research any risks to make sure you’re not doing any tasks that might end up immobilizing you.” He mumbles as he finishes up the settings, the red blinking light on the EID tag turning a steady green, signalling that it’s ready to be worn.  
“Oh, don’t worry. The chip is attached to the bone, so it doesn’t move.” You inform him, and that reassures him quite a bit, as he nods, and uses quite a lot of force to clip the tag onto the silver collar- metal snapping into place, making it hard to get it off again.  
“Alright. Come here.” He tells you, and you almost proudly stand straight, offering your neck to him as he clips the collar around you- electronic lock clicking shut, never to open again for anyone else but him. “Is that alright?” He asks, and you nod, while he tests- slipping two fingers between the metal and your neck, just to make sure it’s not too tight. “Alright.” 
“Alright.” You mirror, getting only a mild reaction from him.  
“I’ll order some books and electronic information devices for you to study. We’ll pick them up at the next outpost.” He informs you, and you nod, taking this as a signal that you’ve been dismissed- so you walk back to the sleeping bag, sitting down on it to look out the window again.  
“Can I.. sleep a bit?” You wonder, and Yoongi nods.  
“I don’t need you right now, so you can rest.” He accepts, and at that, you eagerly crawl into the sleeping bag again to sleep once more, giving him a moment to think about what he’d just done.  
He blames his instincts, the fact that his kind lives in groups and usually prefers company at all times. Maybe it’s the fact that he actually does need someone to be able to help take care of his health if a job went south. Or maybe, he just can’t shed the way he’s been raised, even though he’s not that kind person anymore. Even still, he feels odd, looking at you asleep in front of those large windows.  
Like he just got himself entangled into something a lot more complicated than he believes right now. 
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we-stan-cale · 2 months
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I want to hear about your favorite moments in TCF.
I have a long list, but I'll start with one that I don't hear people talk about much - Cale's conversation with Lock and Raon the night before the battle at the gorge.
First, I absolutely love how Cale handled Lock here. Lock is feeling like a failure, guilty, a coward - a whole bunch of negative things because he's no longer able to use his berserk transformation, and he thinks it's because he's afraid.
Cale - acts normal. It's hard to describe what that means, or why it matters. He just doesn't make a big deal out of it. Not like he's dismissing Lock's fears, but also not like he thinks Lock needs to be reassured.
This is right after Lock told Cale he couldn't go berserk. Rosalyn is also there, and the 'she' it starts with.
She heard a quiet voice at that moment. Pat. “Why is a young boy like you so skinny?” Rosalyn could see Cale pat Lock on the back before heading toward the tent entrance. Cale opened up the flap in order to exit as he looked toward Lock. “Let’s go.”
Cale just... Doesn't respond to the fear, but does show care and concern. And just treats Lock like normal (except in this case that's not really normal).
He then basically gets Lock to focus on the here and now, so Lock won't go into that headspace where he keeps feeling like he's a failure. He's preventing Lock from spiraling as he keeps thinking about what a failure he is.
Cale started to speak as soon as the young boy stopped right in front of him. “Focus on my back. Follow behind me and don’t think about anything else.”
And then he invites Lock to dinner. Just Lock, Raon, and Cale. Cale lets Lock talk, and then said something I absolutely love:
Lock’s mumblings stopped as soon as Cale asked a question. “Would you throw me away if I was weak?” “What-” Something like that was unbelievable. Lock throw Cale away? Lock’s eyes opened wide in shock as Cale smiled back at him. “Lock, you wouldn’t, right?” Cale picked his fork back up. “So, don’t ask something so obvious. Just eat.”
I love my progression fantasy, but the protagonists in those stories almost always have the same solution for every problem - get stronger.
To hear the protagonist say something like this is just so refreshing. Like - your worth is not tied up with being strong. You are a worthwhile person even if you can't destroy a wall with one punch. You wouldn't throw away someone else just because they were weak, so why are you being so hard on yourself?
And Raon hearing this leads into the final part, the conversation they have as they prepare for bed.
“By the way, human.” “What is it?” Cale made eye contact with the six-years-old Dragon who stopped connecting the device and looked toward him. Raon looked at Cale and asked. “I cannot go through my first growth phase. Is that okay?” ...
“Didn’t I answer that last time? Don’t ask me something so obvious.” “…Is it okay if I am weak?”
...
“Raon, although I am weaker than you, I’ve lived at least thirty, no, fifteen years more than you. But I am still weaker than you. I am not even as strong as you front paw. Is that a problem?” Cale realized his mistake and quickly changed the years before looking at Raon. “It is not a problem at all.”
There's more, but I've already copied enough so if you want to read the rest you should just go check that chapter out.
The thing here is that Raon, who was supposed to go through his first growth phase, couldn't. It now looks like he was afraid of how weak and vulnerable he would be during that.
And Cale, dense though he can be, perfectly reassures Raon.
Now if only that lovely, dense and yet wise man could treat himself with a fraction of the consideration he shows everyone else.
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uplatterme · 1 year
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Just a sample or two, I’m sure you’ll manage.
—sub!dottore/dom!reader, zandik!dottore, transmasc!reader (this is mostly dottore!receiving so no mention of the reader’s genitalia, but it’s still implied reader is transmasc), masochistic!dottore/sadistic!reader | imagined knifeplay (cuts), overstimulation, crying, degradation, slight dumbification, slight blood play, pain kink, unnegotiated kinks but everything is consensual (idk about safe or sane though because it’s dottore)
—i don’t know how to feel about this fic tbh. but it’s here. it’s okay. (edit: i reread it and its quite good)
Zandik knocks over the cup of coffee on his desk when he hears his door getting banged on. He swears that whoever is outside that door is going to get it, he’ll tear them apart into shreds and feed their body to the tigers…
With an annoyed face, Zandik opens up the door, ready to “politely” tell them to get the hell out of his face. The words are already on the tip of his tongue but he rests easy when he recognizes that it's only you, his next-door neighbor.
He quickly tries to remember if his room is a mess. Fuck, he did do laundry a while back, yeah? Does his room smell good? Is his bed fixed?
He panics, why are you even here?
He thinks all of that within three seconds.
“Zandik! I hope I'm not bothering you?” You stand outside his door, bearing that smile he somehow can’t say no to.
“You’re fine, come in.” He says as cool as he can, you’re the only person in your darshan that he can get along with. Hell, you’re the only person in the Akademiya he can tolerate.
“So, uhm.” You start, you’re carrying your bag so he assumes you just came from a class. 
“Yes?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
He doesn’t miss the way you seem to be dancing around the topic. It’s not as if he cares what that favor is, if you ask him to kill a person for you then he’d do it, no questions asked.
“Spit it out then.”
You sigh, sitting down on his bed.
“You know I'm a scholar of Amurta.”
“Of course, you never fail to not bring it up every time I ask you about the subject of human anatomy.” He states, as if that wasn’t obvious already.
“I may need a…sample of sorts.”
Oh, that’s an easy fix. Were you too shy to ask for his blood? That’s strangely endearing.
“How much?” Zandik asks.
“Well, a cup? Maybe two so I don't mess up.” You quickly answer, you appear to be surprised at his immediate response.
“For blood? That seems quite a lot.” Zandik questions, it’s not that he won’t give you it, he’s just a bit confused.
“Not that…”
“What is it then?”
He hears you whisper something and Zandik swears that his ears are fucking with him.
“…Say that again?”
“Seminal Fluid?”
He's stunned for a bit. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it back once he discerns that that’s not the proper response to this situation.
“C-Can’t you do it yourself?” He asks, looking away from you.
Despite his wanting to be with you romantically, you two have never engaged in any of the sort. The most you’ve done is the slight brushing of your hands when working on an experiment.
“Zandik, you know I can't.”
He almost asks again why that is when he realizes.
“Oh.”
He blushes furiously and to your perspective, this might look strange. But when he hears you tearing up someone’s guts next door past bedtime hours, it’s hard not to imagine himself being the one who’s in your partner’s position.
In other words, he’s dreamed too much of being dicked down by you that he forgot about your case to begin with, not that it really matters to him.
And he would never admit to this, but sometimes the noises get a bit too loud for comfort that he has to take care of himself alone while he visualizes you doing that to him. 
He hears you cough, standing up and trying to walk away from this whole thing as if nothing ever happened.
“You know what, I'll leave. I’ll find someone else.” 
It is an embarrassing situation, this was not a scene that he had expected and prepared for.
“W-Wait,” He calls out, his hand grasping your wrist.
“Zandik, you don’t have to. I’ll just pay someone else to do it.” You explained to him that it really isn’t that big of a deal. “I think I came here because you’re my go-to person.” You chuckle.
Zandik really wants to cuss you out, you can’t just say that to him out of nowhere and then decide to leave right after.
He stammers out a response, “I-I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
It’s just silence for a few seconds until you decide to leave him be to do his business, telling him that you’ll just be next door and to take as much time as he needs.
And when the door slams in front of his face, is when he realizes the severity of his decision.
You’re telling him he’s supposed to jack off while knowing that you’re aware he’s doing exactly that?
Zandik unbuckles his belt, deciding that he might as well get this over with as soon as possible.
Then thirty minutes pass by.
Zandik has not filled a cup, nor is he even halfway to a climax. He tries to think of everything. Well, everything but you, imagining things that would turn him on that aren't you or fantasies that involve you. 
He somehow finds this task to be difficult.
His cock is sitting on his leg half-hard, he’s racking his brain to find something that will make this easier and he soon realizes that every single time he’s masturbated somehow involved you in some kind of way.
He doesn’t want to believe that at all, surely not. 
Is he really that into you? 
He reminisces of each time you’ve been with him, the times when you lay an arm on his shoulder, pulling him closer to you without notice. The times when you whisper directly into his ear in the library that sends the poor man into a shock with how he feels your breathing on his neck, wanting you to lay those lips on his skin, to just mark him without care while trying not to get caught by the other students passing by your table.
Zandik whimpers just at the thought of it. He snaps out of his thoughts once he notices that he’s fully hard now, with precum even oozing out his dick. 
He plays with the white liquid, he relishes the fact that you’re able to affect him like this when you’re not even here, to begin with. He grits his teeth, warming the tip with his palm, the stickiness making Zandik slightly quiver from how messy it is. 
His control over his own thoughts and body is slowly starting to slip, his hips moving on their own as his cock longs for the warmth of his hand. He stifles back a moan, thinking about you has his mind going dumb.
He wonders if you know about these feelings of his, the way he has to excuse himself each instance your touches linger on for too long, his entire body stiffening as a pathetic noise tries to escape his throat.
“Haah…”
He wants to stay quiet, knowing that the walls are quite thin and that if he can hear you from back then, so is the opposite.
He breathes impatiently. This isn’t enough at all, he needs more.
Zandik wants to know how it would feel to have you explore his entire body, to have you see every vein and how his blood flows throughout his skin. He knows you’d grow fascinated by him, like you would with any cadaver.
His head tilts back at the thought of you slicing him open, drawing cuts with a scalpel on his thighs as he bleeds, the wounds aching as your tongue licks them oh so slowly. His cock twitches, the stroking of his length getting more and more desperate.
He grows weak as he envisions you squeezing them as you penetrate him, spreading him apart without any preparation whatsoever. He sobs at that, he needs you to put him into his place, to shame him for thinking such disgusting things. To treat him as nothing more than trash, that he’s a whore for enjoying these kinds of acts.
His left hand grips the sheets for stability, the other continuing to pump himself until he spills. His vision blurs from both the pleasure and the tears, almost forgetting about the reason why he’s doing this to begin with, too high of his lust for you.
He stumbles over, aiming for the cups you’ve given him. 
Zandik moans loudly as he finishes, not all of his fluid gets into the containers. In fact, most of it splattered all over his bed and his legs. He waits until he stops cumming, panting heavily as sweat drips off his forehead.
It’s worrying how much of a pull you have toward him.
He sits there for a few minutes, resting easy until he hears knocking on the door.
“Y-Yeah?” He calls out from his bed, too tired to stand up.
“Are you done?”
Zandik immediately rushes to the door, taking his blanket with him to cover his lower half.
He opens the door with a slight shake of his hand, openly oblivious to how he looks right now to you.
His hair is a mess, his face… 
He looks as if he’s in a daze, and he is, for the most part. There are traces of tears from his wet eyelashes, eyes staring at you as if he’s begging for you to take a bite out of him, to fuck him right then and there.
He looks so pitiful and vulnerable, an appearance that you’ve never seen of him, an appearance that he’d never show others, an appearance that he’d only show to you.
His legs are bare, the blanket doing nothing to hide the shape of his hips. There’s cum dripping down his legs and you knew you should have knocked later. But once you heard your friend sound like that, your urges got the best of you.
You’re sure glad you didn’t stop yourself.
“R-Right…You need it warm, yes?” Zandik says, embarrassed at what he’s just done and thought of while he got himself off.
“Yeah…” You answer, mind focused on his figure instead of what you initially came here for.
He hands you the containers you’ve given him, the liquid splashing. 
“Thank you, Zandik.”
“Of course, anytime…” He replies.
You could just leave, pretend as if you didn’t hear him earlier or those other times he’s fucked himself alone while moaning out your name, distracting you even if you were in bed with another.
“Hey, Zandik?”
“Hm?”
You know he’s into you, and the gods know you’d be lying if you claimed you weren’t turned on by Zandik right now.
The next few moments are a blur and Zandik is unsure how he’s ended up at a loss for words, his legs being spread apart by your hands as he’s forced to bear the shame of you seeing him already so stiffened despite just cumming a few minutes ago.
“So soaked…”
“S-Sorry…” He apologizes, trying to look away.
Zandik blushes at the fact he hasn’t trimmed there in a while.
“Cute.”
His heart beats loudly in his chest, unsure of how to process this whole thing.
He’s not complaining at all, no. He’s just surprised at how you’re being so forward with him like this, not sure whether to take this as a one-time thing or if there’s something more to your actions.
“What would you like me to do?” You question.
That’s a loaded question. What doesn’t he want you to do?
Everything, he wants to say. He wants to be greedy. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen for so long, it’d be a waste to just be shy and act like this.
Still, thinking that is easier than actually doing it.
“T-Touch me, please.”
“How? Won’t you show me how you do it, Zandik?”
He nods shyly, bringing his hand to his cock. He’s much more sensitive now than before since he’s just had his orgasm. He ponders on what lay behind those eyes of yours, staring him down intensely as he tries to focus on himself.
It doesn’t take much for him to be hard, especially with how your hands feel on his thighs. It’s shameful to see himself leaking so much already, a lot quicker than when he did this alone earlier.
His hips convulse while he strokes himself, “Aren’t you eager?” You ask him, but that just makes him whine impatiently.
This is a lot tamer than he had imagined but that doesn’t erase the satisfaction that he’s getting right now.
“I might cum…” He simply says, still keeping at the same pace.
“Are you asking for permission?”
Zandik whimpers out softly, nodding his head at your question.
“Do you think you deserve it?”
Does he? He thinks he does, but what if you don’t think the same way? A loud gasp escapes him, he can’t hold it for much longer. Tears start to form again from his ducts, a sobbing mess who just wants to please you as much as he can.
Chants of your name and pleading continue, yet it won’t seem like you’re taking that as an answer.
A  sudden pain shocks his entire body when he feels your nails digging down his thighs. Each second is a nightmare, your nails going deeper and deeper as blood drips down to his sides, staining the sheets of his bed.
God, that feels so fucking good.
“H-Hurts…” He says.
“Yeah? Maybe, If you answer my question, I’ll let you go.” You continue pressing on the newmade wounds, raising a moan out of him.
“I-I don't know…”
“Ah, but Zandik. Aren’t you the smart one?”
He sobs, he’s supposed to agree with you but doesn’t find it in his mind to do so right now. “Please—can’t hold it.”
You continue to stare at him in silence, even as Zandik loses control, apologizing repeatedly for finishing with your say.
His thighs twitch every few seconds, his eyelids getting heavier when he tries to focus on the fact that you’re still on top of him.
“My, I’m still here you know?” 
You make that perfectly clear when you shove your fingers into his gaping mouth, the taste of his own cum and blood makes him gag, yet you continue to push your fingers down his throat. He slobbers all over them, yet he takes it with no resistance. He wants you to go even deeper, to ruin his throat.
Eventually, you pull away. The sound that comes out of him is hoarse, yet he still stares at you with loving eyes.
“Want you.” Zandik begs, 
“Prove it, darling.”
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cilliansdove · 3 months
Text
BABY IM SORRY || tommy shelby imagine
pairings: tommy shelby x fem!reader
warnings: postnatal depression/ angst/ suicidal thoughts/ mentions of self harm
summary: y/n's struggling with postnatal depression.
a/n: I am not responsible for the writing you consume. If anything in my writing makes you feel uncomfortable, I apologise, however I can't do much about it. This is my writing and I take full credit for it so please do not copy x paste/rewrite the writing. You may repost/like/comment etc. Enjoy reading!!
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There was a feeling of emptiness in my gut that'd been lingering for a while now. It made me feel weak, spoke sorrows to me- told me I wasn't doing nor giving enough; that I was worthless. It got to me all the time sometimes. And it wasn't something I could run away from, or something I could escape. It was glued to me, embedded itself in my skin and made me feel dirty.
I'd spend hours in the bathtub, scrubbing at my skin till it bled and the water made me shiver from the coldness of it.
Tommy never knew about it, I made sure of it. However, it seemed pretty obvious to me, so perhaps he didn't have the time to care anymore. Either that, or I really was useless. To both Tommy and the baby.
No amount of words could portray the numbness I felt around the mini me. As a mother, I'm meant to be able to nurture the little human, yet as of now, I haven't even looked at them for a week.
Frances always gives me this 'look' of sympathy when she sees me; it makes me feel sick. But then again, I always seem to be feeling sick nowadays.
And Mrs Shelby. A name I was no longer living up to. I was destroying the title completely. I stopped organising charity events, stopped going out. I was a rotting corpse, in a rotting home.
Worst of all, Tommy had finally caught on. That didn't hurt, no. It was the look in his eye that made me heart clench- the way his body slumped after seeing how drained I was.
I felt tears begin to brim in my empty eyes, "I'm sorry..." I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I couldn't bare to look him in the eyes.
Tommy cupped my chin and tilted it upwards so I'd look at him. He tilted his head to the side, observing me from head to toe, like I was damaged. As if it wasn't only my head rotting anymore, it was my body too.
His fingertips traced my greying cheekbone and he leant his face down to brush his nose against mine.
"No, Y/n. This is my fault," A tear streamed down his face and I frowned at him, "Baby I'm sorry...I should've been here for you and I haven't," Tommy pressed his forehead against mine.
I hesitantly closed my eyes and nodded my head, "It's okay-"
He cut me off, "No it's not. Don't make excuses for my poor behaviour," He frowned softly and cupped my jaw , "Y/n what's wrong, love?"
I looked at him emptily, baffled by his question. I didn't have an answer to it. But I swallowed down my fear and answered meekly, "I'm not sure, Tommy..."
He looked behind me, gawking at the mess of our bedroom.
"Where's Charlie? Why aren't you with him?"
His words made me choke up, causing tears to freely spill from my eyes. With the little strength I had, I squeezed the fabric of his shirt, and he got the hint.
Tommy put my head on his chest and stroked through the knots in my hair.
"He doesn't need me, Tommy. I'm not good enough to him. I can't feed him properly, I can't settle him. For fuck sakes, I can't even hold him! I'm a disgrace of a mother and a wife. A no good, stupid-"
He shut me off with a gentle kiss to my lips. They moved soothingly against mine, giving me a small sense of comfort.
Tommy pulled away gently, and cupped my face, looking me dead in the eye with a sympathetic look. The same one Frances always gave me.
"You listen to me now, ay?"
I weakly nodded.
"You a no disgrace, Y/n, I can promise you that, my love. And it hurts me that you think you aren't good enough, because god forbid, Y/n, if I didn't have you, there would be no 'Tommy Shelby'. I'd be a nobody," he rests his forehead against mine, "but you are hurting yourself, love. And I am in no way blaming you for that, but it isn't necessary. I love you, yeah? That little boy in his bed loves you too. He thinks the world of you, Y/n. So please, please, love. Come back to me."
I let out a small sob and nodded. But the longer I listened to him, the more the guilt opened its arms to me.
I fell into Tommy, hugging him tightly as I buried my face into his shoulder.
He cooed to me, "It's okay, love. Shh...shh...it's alright. I'm not angry at you, I'm just...scared."
Slowly, I untucked my face from his shoulder, and looked at the tear stains on his shirt. I sniffled and looked up at him. Tommy wiped away my tears with his thumbs.
"I never meant to scare you, Tom."
"I know, love. I know."
____________________________________________
A week later he had taken me to the doctors. They had diagnosed me with postnatal depression. It was the cause to my mood changes, especially towards the baby.
There was no clear fixture other than to 'talk things out'. So I did.
Tommy made me cuddle up to him in bed, and rest my head on his chest so he could stroke my hair.
"Just talk when you can, sweetheart. Or if you're not ready, that's okay too, yeah?"
I let out a deep sigh and snuggled closer to him. Both my fists were clenched, but after a couple minutes, I relaxed.
"Promise you won't be angry?" I looked at him nervously.
Tommy rolled his head back, looking up at the ceiling, "We've spoken about this, Y/n/n. I'm not gonna be angry, ay? I just want to help you, alright?"
"Alright."
I dwelled on whether to speak or be silent.
The urge to tell him how I felt was eating away at me. It was now or never.
"Tommy..." I sat up in the bed, and lay the same way he did. On my back, with an arm under my head on the pillow- staring up at the ceiling.
"Tommy I hurt myself..." My eyes didn't blink for what felt like hours. After saying it, it made what I had done, seem real.
He didn't speak either, which rattled my nerves. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he not love me anymore? Did he-
"Show me."
I dashed up, and stared at him, "Are you absurd? No!"
He shot out of bed and pinned me to him by my shoulders, making me shriek.
"For god sakes, woman! I need to see it, Y/n!"
He towered over me, his piercing blue eyes shooting at me. I squirmed in his tight grip, trying to get out of it.
"Stop it!" I sobbed, giving up, "S-Stop it."
My body slumped in his grip, and I let my knees buckle and take me to the floor.
Tommy pulled me back up and whispered gently to me ,"Please, love...I need to see. If you don't show me, Y/n, I'll have to go rooting myself."
A deep sob wrecked through me and I gripped his shirt tightly. He wasn't giving me a choice. He was being unfair. Tommy wouldn't want to see the damage I'd caused to myself. It was disgusting.
Hesitantly, I let the straps of my dress slip down my shoulders, allowing it to pool to my feet. I watched as Tommy's eyes were met with the discolouration on my thighs. I watched as his eyebrows flipped upwards. I watched as he didn't blink. I watched him shake his head.
Out of the blue, he pulled me to him in a tight embrace whilst he let out heavy sobs. Ones that made my heart ache.
Without thinking about it, I let my hands run through his hair in attempt to soothe him. But his body was getting heavy on me so i sat us on the bed.
He gazed at me with his puffy eyes, "Why, Y/n? Why, love?"
I shrugged with a blank look on my face. I wasn't sure how to react to the situation.
"I don't know...I thought it was the only way to cope," I looked at the ceiling to stop myself from crying, "It took away the emptiness I felt. I couldn't talk to you...because I didn't want to burden you further with my baggage."
"Oi! I vowed to you that I would look after you through thick and thin, and through sickness and health," he planted a kiss on my temple, "You have never been a burden to me, my love. And you never will be. Because I love you."
I frowned at him, a confused look in my eye, "I don't understand."
"You don't need to. All you need to know, is that I love you no matter the issue, okay?"
____________________________________________
- part 2??🤔🤔
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elderflower2000 · 1 year
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Neteyam x reader.
I suppose I’ll just have to do myself. This is literally my first time writing fan fiction which I have been an avid reader of myself for years!! Due to the lack of Neteyam fics I’ve decided to take the reins into my own hands!!!
Please go easy on me!!
- - - - - - - -
This is set before the humans come back to Pandora and the Sully family are still living in the forest.
- - - -
Isn’t life strange? How can a simple touch change an entire friendship? Perhaps it was only myself who felt the shift in feelings towards Neteyam but it happened and I have been left with the consequences of a heart aching for a love that may not even be reciprocated.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Neteyam asks, The eldest Sully brother has caught me by the river washing soiled loin clothes. His eyes were filled with a mix of annoyance and anger from my sudden change in disposition towards him.
“I am not ignoring you, I am simply busy.” My tone curt, I truly cannot understand how love and longing has made me sour. I spoke to my sister on how she felt when encountering love, she told me wistful tales of secret moments shared under the stars, endless laughter and the constant preening of hair to look her best. I know I love him but his presence causes me to tense up, like my throat is being held and manipulated to speak in nothing but short, blunt sentences.
“You know what I mean!” He says kneeling down next to me desperately trying to catch my eye line but being sorely disappointed when I stand up from the edge of the small pond twisting the loin cloth to expel any excess water. “You haven’t looked at me in three days, have I done something to upset you? Please tell me so I can make it right.” He practically begged but I ignored Neteyam once more leaving him staring at his reflection in the water.
Neteyam was so angry, why wouldn’t you talk to him?! Ever since you two had be mere toddlers you had both spent your days with one another chasing beetles or watching hunters flying on their Ikran. Your days had been filled with endless laughter, jokes and smiles but now that had all been ripped away from Neteyam for no reason and he wanted answers.
“What is wrong?” Neytiri asks her eldest son who was crouched by the fire. His glare was thoughtful but he also stole the occasional glance at you who sat across from the flames talking with Kiri. Why were you smiling at her but not him? Neteyam wracked his brain for any moment in recent days that might have offended you.
“I am fine, Mother.” Neteyam snapped but Neytiri followed his gaze across to you. She couldn’t help but sigh “You two have been friends for as long as you both could walk. A friendship like that is not easy to break my son.” Neytiri offered her words of comfort to her son but Neteyam sighed running a hand through his hair his gaze returning back to you.
“Why will you not just tell him how you feel? Just from the way he looks at you it is obvious that he feels the same.” Kiri said to you but you just roll your eyes. “It is not that simple Kiri, we have been friends for so long and I am afraid that I could jeopardise years of happy memories because of my feelings.” You express to Kiri who looks like she wants to strangle you.
The night proceeds with you and Neteyam sharing stolen glances from across the fire. It seemed that the hostility was getting to the eldest son as he stood from his crouch and strode over towards you. His steps were long and powerful as navi heads turned from the powerful sight. Neteyam grabbed your hand pulling you up from your place on the floor “What are you doing?” You hiss but he did not stop dragging you away from the large crowd and out into the open air.
“Neteya..” he cuts you off.
“Why are you ignoring me? Do you know how frustrating this is?! To have someone you care about so deeply ignore you for no reason!” His frustration was clear from his tone and face.
“I am not ignoring you!” You snap like a venomous snake.
“Yes you are! You do not greet me with smiles anymore, you do not ask to braid my hair, you do not run to me to tell me about your day. It all stopped and I want to know why!” He takes a step closer, his anger flared inside him, chest heaving as he waited for your response.
“I’m not-“ You start to say but Neteyam stops you by sighing, his hand caressing your cheek, his forehead pressed up against yours.
“Please just tell me what I have done wrong, I will do anything to make amends but just please do not ignore me, my heart cannot take it.” He speaks in soft hushed tones, this moment was just meant for the two of you and perhaps now you could confess.
“Two days ago, in the clearing just beyond the mountains your finger tips brushed my cheek, it was such a simple gesture Neteyam but it changed something within me. It shifted my world, my feelings towards you changed within that moment and I’m afraid that my feelings will ruin our friendship.” You explain and his eyes soften immediately but he remains close to you.
“You have feelings for me?” He asks softly, your bright yellow eyes meet his as you nod slowly. “You do not know how long I have waited for you to say that. I…I thought that I had lost you.” He says the relief on his face stuns you. “My love, I have adored you since we were children, my heart beats only to see your smiling face.”
You cannot believe what you are hearing. Neteyam has always felt the same way, for how many years? It seems that you haven’t been in love alone at all and from that moment you swear to yourself that you shall never let Neteyam forget how much you love him.
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evangelic-echo · 7 days
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ℭ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱
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Part 3:
Part 2<
You were new to heaven, that part was obvious. Compared to the others you stood out, looking a lot different from the rest.
You were made to fit in more with the humans, God's newest creations. You had only one pair of wings instead of three, making the clear distinction that you were different from the rest. Due to your purpose being taking care of humanity, your appearances were made to fit in more with the humans than your fellow angels. All the other angels had such unique features while you were given boring human characteristics to adhere better to them.
The few, early moments of life was great. Living in harmony with the few angels that had been created along side with you. One of the being Lucifer Morningstar, known to be as God's favourite. However, you knew him to be your greatest friend up here in heaven. Since the moment of your creation he's been there, showing you the ropes and being an overall helping hand with your duties and responsibilities.
Today was the day our Father had announced the creation of humans. They were mortal beings created by the soil of the Earth, residing in The Garden of Eden. As you walked with Lucifer, all you could do was wonder about how things were going to change with the new mortals being now your new priority.
"Birdie?"
You looked to your left to see Lucifer looking at you with a longing look on his face.
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that Luci?"
"You just remind me of a Bird that's all! I love those two wings of yours."
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You brought your focus back to the girl before of you, cursing those pitiful thoughts away.
"Hi! It's so so soo nice to meet you! My name is Charlotte but you can call be Charlie, I'm so happy that Heaven is giving us another chance!"
Being preoccupied with your own thoughts, you hadn't noticed that the young woman had gotten up from her seat to greet you. Now that she was more closer to you, you took note of her other features you hadn't noticed before. Like her height for example, she definitely gotten that end of the stick from her mother.
Another thing you noticed is that while greeting you, she kept both her hands behind her back, not showing any effort to properly greet you with a handshake.
Rude...
Deciding to look past it, you extend your hand towards her instead as you introduced yourself. However, Charlie instead looks down to your arm, hesitating to reciprocate.
"Not to be rude, but uh, Adam tried the same to thing during my first meeting with him."
"Excuse me?!"
You would have never of thought that on this Saturday morning, instead of being at home, watering your plants and chilling on your bed. Your instead dealing with Lucifer's daughter, who he apparently didn't think to teach her basic manners.
"I know you're a hologram, you're up there in Heaven while I'm down here in Hell."
Now you're even more confused. Hologram? Was she not up here in Heaven?
Impulsively, you reach for Charlie's arm, but instead of you grabbing onto her scarlet red sleeve, your hand just falls through while her arm glitches out. You call out to the Cherub as you exit the room, seeking answers as to why it was crucial for you to take part in this fancy ass facetime where you essentially spend your whole day in a room alone, because the only other person you'd be speaking to isn't even physically in the room with you.
"You called me Ma'am?"
"Please tell me why both mine and the princesses time is being wasted by making us communicate through these shitty holograms?!"
"Heaven has always communicated with Hell this way Miss. I- uh, can't do anything about that. Sera believes that..."
You started to tune out the Cherub as he mentioned the Seraphim's name, you could care less about whatever the little creature was preaching about. Turning your back towards the angel, you opened a portal to the embassy down in Hell. Your not against technology or whatever, but using holograms instead of basic face to face communication was just too much for you.
"What are you doing?!! Creating a portal to Hell is absolutely unacceptable! If you step through that Sera will..."
You stepped through the portal without a second thought, cutting off the Cherub.
"I didn't think you were coming back"
Looking around you noticed that the embassy here in Hell looked exactly the same one back up in Heaven. If it wasn't for the fact that you could feel a physical difference between here and Heaven, you would've thought you opened a portal to the meeting room you were previously in.
"So sorry for the hiccup dear, I just prefer to speak face to face when it comes to matters such as this."
"Right! Of course, I completely agree. Well- uhm, it's nice to 'officially' meet you"
Without hesitation this time she extends her hand in your direction and you, of course, take her hand into yours, reciprocating her greeting. Internally taking back the initial thoughts you had of her only a few seconds ago.
"It's a pleasure to meet you too Charlotte"
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You were sitting on one end on the unusually large table while Charlie was sat on the other, ranting incredibly fast while pitching her Hazbin Hotel to you. You absolutely did not have the heart to tell her this meeting was scheduled to talk about the shit show of the recent extermination. You also had to admit that this hotel had caught your interest after speaking to that Sir Pentious guy. But looking at Charlie now as she tells you about this project so passionately brought you back to those old memories of you and Lucifer as he would tell you about his plans for the Garden of Eden with that same passion and ambition, which honestly weighed down on your heart a lot more than you'd like to admit.
"Even with the destruction of our hotel during the exterminations, it allowed us to undergo huge renovations which have led to the Hotel looking the best it ever has since opening!"
"With all due respect Charlie, but the exterminations were literally yesterday. It's hard to believe you constructed a whole hotel after it got obliterated in a single night."
"With the help with mine and my Dad's magic, as well as the rest of the residents, we were able to build the Hotel from scratch! With even more rooms and wayy better infrastructure! If only I could prove to you how amazing it looks now! I may have a picture on my phone if you give me a second..."
As she pulled out her phone, humming and muttering to herself as she was browsing for said photo. You got up from your seat and walked towards the door, realising that she could in fact show you the new and improved hotel. Noticing that you were walking towards the exit, she lowers her phone as she focuses her gaze on you instead.
"Hey, uhh- I found the picture!"
"Or you could show me your newly renovated hotel now, in person. It's nearby is it not?"
"Really?! Yeah it's a few blocks down but I didn't think you'd want to venture further than this room."
Charlie did have a point, walking out and around on the streets of hell wasn't a great idea considering you weren't from around here. It's possible that the majority wouldn't be able to notice, but it takes just one demon to notice your energy being very different than the traditional hell spawn. But that should be fixed with a quick portal.
"Oh that's no problem at all. Although, I do have certain expectations for when I'm there."
Charlie, evidently excited to show off her hotel to someone new, nodded her head in response as she waited for you to continue.
"I want to see Lucifer."
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A/N: It's been sooo long since I posted and I lowkey missed sitting down and just writing. ALSO THANK YOU ALL FOR THE FOLLOWS🫶. The taglist has significantly grown as well. If you want to be added just feel free to just comment and I’ll add you to it on the next update, which I promise is coming soon!!
Taglist: @alientee @froggybich @simbalioness @elementwind91 @tsukiko26 @weirdgirlislonely
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shuttershocky · 7 months
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how do you feel about iori/saber so far by the way, whether as a ship or just their dynamic in general
I really like their dynamic!
While Iori and Saber themselves are full of callbacks to the original Shirou and Saber, their relationship dynamic is something that's all their own.
Usually a servant like FSR Saber would have belonged to a more emotional master. Saber starts the game out as an arrogant, destructive force and a bit of a bully, constantly going "Good grief my master's so weak! How did I get such a weak master when I can solo this whole thing? I should just kill everybody that gets in my way."
Rather than get upset or insecure however, Iori's humility and martial discipline ends up making a wall for Saber's arrogance to repeatedly bounce off of. When told he's weak, he goes "You are right. I don't fight because I'm strong, but because I should." When Saber talks down to him saying his presence doesn't change the outcome of a fight whatsoever, he just goes "I know. I'm doing the best I can."
This doesn't just eventually warm Saber up to him, but it also ends up creating the soul of their dynamic for the rest of the game. Saber's powerful, impulsive, and free in all their aspects, while Iori is measured, disciplined, and tied down (he's poor, he's an orphan, he's a warrior in an age of peace). This leads to fun gags like Saber having that classic Saber gluttony which wreaks havoc on Iori as a poor ronin living hand to mouth every day, but where this really shines is in how it makes its own twist in the original dynamic of Shirou and Saber.
Underneath Shirou and Saber's relationship was the recognition of themselves in the other. Both were willing to give up their entire lives for the greater good without once thinking of themselves, and seeing it in the other person horrified them because that was someone they cared about, while making a special exception for their own self-sacrifice.
In Samurai Remnant, Saber wonders how could such a weak human have summoned a servant as powerful as them, but the answer slowly becomes obvious as their relationship grows. Hiding underneath Saber's smug nature is a legend known for brutally killing anything and everything that stood in their way, whether that be armies, kings, monsters, or even gods. Why? What could compel a human to put a god to the sword just because they were ordered to? How broken and terrible inside must you be to see an aspect of divine power and feel no fear, only the desire to fight and to kill something that should be untouchable by a human?
The most delicious part of Iori and Saber's developing relationship is Saber slowly realizing that the bravery in Iori's eyes when he (literally) locks blades with a Servant is not bravery, but something much more familiar.
It should also be said that FSR Saber is one of the extremely few servants (if not the first even) to cry about the thought of leaving their Master after the ritual has ended.
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Bittersweet goodbyes have been a mainstay of the series since Fate/Stay Night, but FSR is the first time in my memory that we see a Servant look back at the short, second life they've been given and actually break into tears about not wanting to go.
Going back to the throne of heroes would mean returning to legend. They'd be the bloodstained killer and godslayer. Unparalleled, feared, revered, and alone. Meanwhile in this incarnation, they run around doing odd jobs every day to afford rice, assumed by the neighbors to be the new fiance of the poor ronin that lives in a shack, destined to be forgotten by history like everyone around them living humble and ordinary lives. And now that they've tasted it, they don't want to go back. They've fallen in love with this life, and have to live out the rest of the Waxing Moon Ritual knowing they don't have a choice about going back.
It's soooooo good. Such a perfect capture of that vintage Type-Moon feeling, I'd almost forgotten this wasn't even written by TM themselves but by the Fire Emblem Three Houses team.
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spacebubblehomebase · 18 days
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I just noticed, in your HHStargazers AU no one has pupils - except for Alastor and, if she's canon, Carmilla. Does that mean slit pupils are a sign of a demon in disguise?
Good eye! 👈👈👀 (Pun unintended.) Though I don't really plan for this trait to be repeatedly shared amongst the disguised demons. Mostly to not limit my designs to an obvious tell. But the slit pupils were indeed intentional flaws I added in for those two in particular. Because according to MY headcanon, both angels and demons are beings beyond human comprehension. Thus, it's only to be expected that even when they TRY to fit in, they'll be unable to keep EVERY aspect of their uncanny nature concealed. At best, they're imperfect imitations of what "normal" should be. It just so happens that in my AU, angels have a much easier time concealing most of their little quirks and oddities away than the sinners for my own reasons and as for WHY no one ever grew suspicious of the eye thing, it's because Charlie's curiosity could be easily curved. While for Lucius to point this out, he'll have to admit that he's been staring at Alastor's eyes a lot whenever he gets close enough to drown in the depths of his gaze and- EHEM!!! Which he's NEVER done, mind you! AhahaHAH- What slit pupils??? Never noticed those before. Nuh-uh. NO siree. NOPE! Lucius is normally so, SO normal about Alastors VERY much normal eyes in a TOTALLY normal amount of normal. A-ANYWAAAYS!!! Lucius would also be a hypocrite if he was bothered by them considering his own occupation and the people he's usually surrounded by (yet to be revealed). As for the other humans, Alastor doesn't care enough about their opinions for it to be a threat to him and people often just avoid the guy unnerving them with his creepy ass stare. So it's all good! Hope you like these bonus fun facts! 'Cause I have a feeling I left you with just as much questions as answers, but that's the fun of an ongoing story, yeah? Stay tuned~! 😉✨️ -Bubbly💙
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another-lost-mc · 1 year
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LEVIATHAN x gn!Reader 0.6k Words | NSFW | Silly Fluff & Kissing -> Prompt: Kissing in the Rain [ obey me! masterlist ]
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There’s a lot of things you would gladly do for Levi if he asked you to. You know him well enough by now that you try to anticipate what he wants so he doesn’t have to ask for things—being forward is still something he struggles with.
That’s why when he tugs your hand after class and leads you to a random tree in the pouring rain, you find it difficult to refuse, no matter how odd it seems. Your RAD uniforms are soaked, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest. He tosses his bag against the tree trunk before he starts climbing up to one of the higher branches.
“Levi?” you called to him, and you sounded as nervous as you felt. “What’s going on?” There's no way you're climbing up the tree too, if that's what he's thinking.
Other than a brief glance in your direction, he doesn't answer because he's too focused on finding his footing. He steps gingerly onto one of the branches and sits down. He shifts into his true form and curls his tail around the tree branch to steady himself. He looks excited before he suddenly swings upside down, and his knees and tail keep him anchored so he doesn't slip. He waves you over until you're standing in front of him, almost face-to-face.
He stares at you expectantly, and something clicks into place when you try to remember why this seems so familiar.
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Three weeks ago…
“That can’t be comfortable. Wouldn’t the water go up his nose?”
“Yes, but real life physics aside, this was an iconic movie moment when I was growing up! I thought it was really romantic the first time I saw it.”
“Pfft, humans are weird, you know that?”
“I’ll show you weird!”
“Hey, that tickles! Okay, okay, fine, I give up—!”
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“Wait, are you doing this because of the movie?” you ask him incredulously.
He blinks at you like the answer is obvious, because it is obvious; he’s the only person you know that would even think of trying to recreate an awkward kiss from a superhero movie for you.
“You said it was romantic,” he says simply, gesturing to the tree. “And I was curious about the mechanics of it,” then he adds softly, “and how it would feel.”
(He doesn’t admit how long it took to find a tree with branches at the correct height to do this. Even after he found the right tree, he still didn’t have the nerve to ask you to come here on either of the days it rained, prior to today.)
“Alright, one kiss, and then you’re climbing down,” you insist. You cupped his chilly, rain-soaked cheeks in your hands; his cheeks dimple when he smiles and nods.
(Later when you're both rightside-up and in a warm bath, you'll tell him how much you appreciate him doing these sweet, silly things for you.).
You’ve shared many kisses with Levi, but none have felt like this. The kiss feels awkward at first, and you wonder why you ever thought that silly Hollywood kiss could work in real life. Your mouths don’t slot together perfectly and you bump his nose with your chin.
You try to pull back and apologize, but one of his hands curls around the back of your head and keeps you in place. He hums into the kiss, and he surprises you again when he’s the one moving his lips against you with a bit more urgency, and he flicks his tongue at the seam of your mouth. The kiss still isn’t perfect, but the new sensations feel pleasant in their own way.
When he lets his hand slip away from the back of your neck, the kiss ends abruptly. There’s heat churning inside your belly now, and the cool rain soaking your clothes offers no relief.
Levi seems to sense the love and lust radiating from you, and he’s so proud that he made you feel that way that it makes the effort more than worthwhile. Within an instant, he pulls himself into a sitting position on the branch so he can hop down from the tree safely.
He picks up his bag quickly and holds out his hand to you. There's a fiery gleam in his eyes that promises a continuation of what he started in the warm, dry privacy of his bedroom.
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icyhottodo · 1 year
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WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM?
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characters: isagi, bachira, reo, rin & nagi | genre: fluffy fluff! pre-established relationship
warnings: pet names (love, babe, angel, sweetheart)
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✩ ISAGI YOICHI
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
it was a saturday afternoon, and you two decided to sleep in for the day. while scrolling through your preferred social media, you suddenly remembered a small but funny joke on isagi.
"what?"
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
"i mean, babe. i love you and all, but how am i supposed to love you if you weren’t human-"
isagi cuts himself off when he notices your sad puppy dog face, staring at him in despair. his heart hurt at your sad face.
"love." isagi sighed, but he couldn't help but let out a small smile at your antics. pulling you even closer to his body.
"i will still love you as a worm."
✩ BACHIRA MEGURU
"would you still love me if i was a worm?" 
"what are you talking about? of course i would! why wouldn’t i?" bachira questioned you as if that question had the most obvious answer.
"how would you know it's me?" 
you inquired, still not convinced that bachira was completely certain about your question. bachira cups your face with one of his hands and forces you to look at his yellow, dilated eyes, filled with nothing but love.
"angel, if i didn’t automatically know the worm was you, then i would be disappointed in myself." bachira spoke with not an ounce of joking or teasing in his voice, only seriousness and love.
"now, would you love me as a worm?"
✩ MIKAGE REO
"would you still love me if i was a worm?" 
you would see reo’s shocked face morph into a smile, hearing his boisterous laugh. "(y/n), you know, i expected you to ask that question sooner."
"what is that supposed to mean?"
"if you randomly turned into a worm," reo started, playfully ignoring your question. "i’ll make you the royalty of the worms. you’ll have the cutest fish bowl filled with the richest soil i can find, and if you want, i can find some worm friends for you!"
"you’ve awfully thought a lot about this question, reo." you chuckled at your boyfriend, feeling the heat reach your face now, knowing that reo would pamper the hell out of you even if you were a worm.
"only the best for my love."
✩ ITOSHI RIN
"rin?"
"no."
"i haven't even asked the question yet!" you sulked, getting up to walk away before rin (who was laughing) gently grabbed you by the wrist.
"what is the question, sweetheart?" rin stops laughing and pulls you back down onto the couch, which you reluctantly agree with before a cheeky smile appears on your face.
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
"babe," rin deadpans. "no."
this caused you to loudly and dramatically exclaim, "WHAT?" before pulling yourself up to leave once again until rin grabbed you once more.
"c’mon babe, what's the point? i can’t touch you like this or even speak to you. i would rather have a normal human you."
"but rin! it’s not like i’m ever going to turn into one!" 
"okay then, would you love me as a worm?"
"of course!"
"you’re just saying that because i said no."
"it's not just because of-"
✩ NAGI SEISHIRO
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
no answer.
"nagi."
no answer again.
"sei!" you shook nagi out of his flow; you were just sitting on his lap while he was playing some random video game he liked on his computer.
"yes, m’love? sorry, was focusing." nagi would glance at you for a few seconds, indicating that he is listening to you, before his eyes reverted back to the game on the screen.
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
"if you're able to keep cuddling with me at night even if you were a worm, i don't care." you sighed at his answer.
"sei, i mean an actual worm with no ability to do anything but wiggle." you wiggled to accentuate the "wiggle-ness."
"then you’re already one."
"NAGI."
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